


#failwolf

by cavaleira



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Crack, Embarrassment, Failwolf Friday, First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavaleira/pseuds/cavaleira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles launches a Twitter campaign, Derek is oblivious, and Laura just thinks the whole thing is hilarious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#failwolf

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in an AU where the Hales are alive and werewolves are known and live alongside humans. 
> 
> A big thank you to shorthemline for being my beta and to both her and atomic_dawg for being horrible enablers and getting me to write Sterek fic.
> 
> NOTE: A few readers have mentioned they found parts of the story upsetting, so I’ve decided to put up a warning of sorts. If you have issues with social anxiety and are triggered or squicked by public embarrassment or humiliation, you might want to sit this one out.

Derek Hale is not a perfect person by any means.

Sure, he has a lot going for him. He does good work as a deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. He tries to be a good son and a good brother, always there for the pack when they need him. He's disciplined and hard-working. And he has it on good authority that a lot of people find him attractive ("stupidly handsome" as Stiles likes to say, although Derek's never really clear on whether it's a compliment or an insult).

But Derek also knows that sometimes he comes across as gruff and standoffish. His sense of humor can be too understated for people to really get. He sucks at most video games and he often forgets people's birthdays. And unless someone more culinarily gifted is telling him what to do, he can't cook for shit.

So no, not perfect. However, knowing that doesn't make it any less disturbing when more and more people in town seem to be commenting on his mistakes and failures.

It's little things, like the chastising comment the florist made when Derek went to buy flowers for his mother on the day after her birthday (because he fucked up and forgot _again_ this year). Or how every time he burns a microwave meal - which is more often than Derek would like to admit - the baggers at the grocery store always seem to know about it somehow, snickering at him as he pays for his items. And then there was the whole debacle of Derek's failed date with Jessica, the bookstore clerk who was always overly friendly towards him. Derek hadn't even realized it was supposed to be a date until the next day. The fact that Derek had shown up in his ratty gym clothes and left to go workout after 20 minutes just made it that much worse. His fellow deputies had started teasing him about it even though Derek had never said a word about it and none of them even knew Jessica.

Derek doesn't understand why people seem to know these things about him. It just doesn't make sense. It's clear that there's something fishy is going on and Derek intends to get to the bottom of it.

***

 

For awhile, Derek wonders if Scott and Stiles have something to do with his little problem. He hangs back and keeps an eye on them, but they don't seem to be any more meddlesome than they usually are. They're both still overly curious about police cases. Scott still asks him inane questions about being a werewolf and they both still come over to Derek's apartment to annoy him and eat all of his food. But otherwise they just seem busy with lacrosse and finishing up the school year, nothing to do with Derek at all.

Scott and Stiles are both seniors in high school, and somewhat unofficial members of the Hale pack. Scott had been bitten by a rogue omega a couple years before. With no one to show him the ins and outs of being a werewolf, Derek's family had stepped up to help him. Even though Laura would be the Alpha one day, somehow Derek was chosen as the one to show Scott the ropes. And as for Stiles? Well, Stiles and Scott were kind of a package deal. Though Derek likes to complain that they're both nothing but trouble, he has to admit to having a certain fondness for the little bastards. At this point, he can't imagine not having them around.

Derek and Stiles have been spending more time together over the past few months, ever since Scott started going out with the Argent girl and became so engrossed in his new relationship. Stiles has taken to showing up at Derek's apartment, hanging out and generally being a nuisance. Despite Derek's efforts, Stiles always finds a way to poke his nose into Derek's cases for the police department (although Derek has to admit that Stiles sometimes _does_ have useful insights). Some nights, Stiles helps Derek cook while he annoys him with questions about the supernatural. He always tells Derek that he needs help studying human/werewolf integration for his AP History class, but even if Derek wasn't a werewolf he would know that Stiles is lying. Stiles is too smart for his own good; he doesn't need _anyone's_ help studying, let alone Derek's.

Derek still thinks Stiles should be spending more time with people his own age, but Stiles always does what he wants anyway. And truth be told, Derek actually likes having Stiles around. Stiles is not a great cook, but he's at least better than Derek is. He's actually decent at making a few basic things, mainly pasta and breakfast foods. He cajoles Derek into cooking more often instead of always getting takeout or eating frozen meals.

Stiles is completely unfazed by Derek's tough exterior, always there with a smart ass comment that makes Derek laugh in spite of himself. Even though Stiles has a penchant for rambling and talking over Derek, it's clear he _does_ actually pay attention to what Derek has to say. He always seems to remember that green is Derek's favorite color and he knows the brand of pens Derek likes to use when filling out police paperwork. And sometimes when Stiles comes over he brings a few of the peanut butter cookies Derek likes from the bakery downtown.

Derek notices the little things about Stiles too, probably more than he should. Like the way Stiles' body has filled out more after his years of playing lacrosse. Or the way that he fidgets and bites his pencil when he's concentrating hard on something. It makes Derek want lay hands on him - see if he can make Stiles be _still_ for just one moment - and then watch him come alive again, shaking and writhing under Derek's touch.

But Derek would never breathe a word of any of this to Stiles. Stiles is barely finishing high school, far too young for Derek. And besides, Stiles doesn't think of Derek that way. Even though he barely mentions her anymore, Derek is sure that Stiles is still carrying a torch for that Lydia Martin girl. Stiles is just looking for a friend, someone he can hang out with now that he doesn't spend as much time with Scott as he used to. Derek can be that for him. And if there are moments when Derek thinks that there might be something there between them, it's just his own stupid feelings muddying things up. Nothing more.

***

 

Derek's suspicions arise again the following week. Somehow a clerk at the Shell station _and_ a waitress at the local diner seem to know about how Derek ruined one of Stiles' t-shirts (which honestly isn't fair since it was partially Stiles' fault too).

Derek had gone over to the Stilinski house to return a book Stiles left at his place and had gotten roped into staying and eating dinner with them. Stiles was the one who'd spilled spaghetti sauce all over Derek's shirt in the first place, although Derek did have to give him credit for letting him borrow a t-shirt from him to wear. It was tight and barely fit him, but it was better than nothing. The problem was that Derek had shifted when he thought he'd heard a suspicious noise, his transformation ripping the already tight shirt to shreds. The noise turned out to be nothing more than a raccoon and Derek felt like a complete idiot. And Stiles - being Stiles - had complained about it endlessly, even though Derek had bought Stiles a new shirt the next day.

But even though Stiles did spend a lot of time griping about it, it was still really strange that these random people seemed so knowledgeable about what happened.

So Derek decides to pull Stiles aside after a pack meeting to try and get to the bottom of things. "Stiles. Have you been telling people about me ripping your stupid shirt?"

Stiles fidgets a little and looks away from Derek. "Um, no. Well, not exactly."

Derek frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well..." Stiles says, drawing the word out far longer than is necessary. "It's-"

"There you are, Stiles," Erica says as she slides up beside Stiles and casually puts her arm around his shoulder. Derek can't help but be a little suspicious of her timing. "Come on, you said you'd help me with my English essay."

"You have my twenty bucks, right?"

Erica rolls her eyes. "I can't believe you're actually charging me. You're the worst pack member ever."

Stiles smirks. "Sorry Erica, but I don't work for free. I've got bills to pay."

Erica lets her arm fall from Stiles' shoulder and lightly punches him. "No, you don't. We should fire you. Can we fire him?" she says, looking to Derek for an answer. Even though Derek shakes his head and gives her a long suffering sigh, he's actually quite fond of Erica. He appreciates her wit and the way she doesn't put up with any bullshit. Erica - along with her packmates Isaac and Boyd - had moved to Beacon Hills about a year ago after a power struggle tore their old pack apart. Much like Scott and Stiles, Derek's family had taken the three betas under their wing.

"Hey!" Stiles protests, "I've been in the pack longer than you have, you should show a little respect to your elders."

"I'm three months older than you."

"Semantics," Stiles says.

Erica rolls her eyes again. "Come on," she says and she grabs Stiles by the nape of his neck, Stiles yelling obscenities at her as he's practically dragged away.

It isn't until they're long gone that Derek realizes that he never got an answer to his question.

***

 

Derek forgets about the whole thing until about a week later when he goes to the toy store downtown to buy a new tiara for his niece Emily. It's the least he can do after accidentally breaking her old one.

That weekend he had gone over to the house for a visit. The adults had all been gone but Erica was there babysitting the kids. Emily was 5 and deeply into a Disney princess phase. She'd been busy playing dress up when her older brother Jeremy started teasing her and snatched the tiara away. Derek - being a good uncle - had stepped in and taken the tiara back from Jeremy, but in doing so he'd underestimated his own strength. Derek could only watch in horror as the little crown snapped into pieces. Emily burst into tears and Erica had snickered at Derek from behind her hand. Derek had spent way too long on Monday trying to glue the damn thing back together while Scott and Stiles had laughed at his subpar crafting skills.

So when Derek gets off his shift on Tuesday afternoon, he knows that it's time to bite the bullet and just buy Emily a new one. Derek heads over to Anderson's Toy Shop and it doesn't take him long to find a suitable replacement. When he goes up to the register he's greeted by Mrs. Anderson, the woman who has owned and run the store for as long as Derek can remember.

"Derek," she says with a kind smile. Derek has always felt like she has a bit of a soft spot for the Hales. After all, with the amount of kids in the family they're some of her best customers.

"Hi Mrs. Anderson," Derek says, smiling back as he places the tiara down on the counter.

"Oh, to replace the one you broke," Mrs. Anderson says absently as she picks the tiara up and scans the barcode.

Derek's eyes narrow. "How did you know about that?"

She looks nervous for a brief moment and then her expression smooths over and she shrugs. "Oh, I don't remember, dear. Must have been from one of your sisters."

Derek frowns. The odds of one of his sisters having run into Mrs. Anderson in the past 2 days and chatting with her long enough to mention the tiara incident are very slim.

"I'm getting on in years, you know. I'm afraid my memory isn't as sharp as it used to be," she says, which Derek knows is not true at _all_ , but he lets it go. He doesn't like to think of himself as the kind of person who goes around interrogating old ladies.

But still, Derek needs answers and he knows exactly who can help him. Derek may be the cop in the family, but Laura is the one who always knows everything that's going on in Beacon Hills. Derek doesn't know how she does it; it's almost like some kind of superpower. She'll make a damned good alpha someday.

Laura isn't hard to find. Tuesdays are pack dinner nights at their parents' house and he knows that Laura will be there early helping to get things ready. When Derek strolls in, the house is relatively quiet. He can hear the muffled voices of the twins upstairs studying for their SATs. He also hears the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen and so he heads that way.

Laura is there, effortlessly chopping onions with preternatural speed; hardly surprising since she's a chef and owns the Italian restaurant in town. Tuesdays tend to be slow in general, so the restaurant is always closed that day so that Laura can get some much needed time off.

"Hey little brother," Laura says, her hands stilling as she looks over and smiles at Derek. Laura is dressed simply in jeans and a red tank top. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into a simple bun, perfect for keeping the hair out of her eyes as she works.

"Hey Laura," Derek says, nodding his head in greeting. "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"Oh, they went to the store to pick up a few more things for dinner. Andie went with them too."

"That's right, I forgot she's home for Spring Break," Derek says. It'll be good to catch up with his little sister and see how her sophomore year is going.

"Uncle Peter and the others should be here soon too."

"Oh, okay," Derek says, feeling incredibly awkward as he tries to find the words to ask Laura what he wants to know. It's funny how easily questioning people comes to him on the job and yet how difficult he finds it when it comes to more personal matters.

"So," Laura says, putting the knife down and turning to fully face Derek, "what's on your mind?"

Derek frowns. He crosses his arms over his chest and tries to go for an aloof expression. From the look on Laura's face, he can tell that it's not working as well as he'd hoped. "I... well. People have been talking. About me."

"Really? What about you?" Laura says, and she looks like she's thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

"Certain things," he says, "mistakes I may have made that they would have no way of knowing about."

"Such as?" Laura drawls.

Derek sighs. He knows that Laura will help him in the end, but he also knows that she won't make it easy for him. Even though they're both adults now, he'll always be her little brother and she'll never be able to resist teasing him a little.

"Well, it seems like everyone always knows when I mess up on cooking dinner," Derek says. "Plus that time I ripped Stiles' t-shirt. And then earlier today I was at the toy store buying a new tiara for Emily and Mrs. Anderson seemed to know all about how I broke the old one. Stuff like that. I don't know what's going on and no one seems willing to talk. It's almost like somebody is spying on me."

Laura laughs and Derek glares at her. "I'm being serious here, Laura."

"I'm sorry, I know you are," she says, stepping forward until she can reach out and give him a comforting pat on the shoulder. Laura looks up and him and shakes her head. "You don't use Twitter, do you?"

"No, of course not," Derek says, rolling his eyes. He's aware of social networking sites and can do most basic things on a computer, but he's never been known for being particularly tech savvy.

Laura laughs again. "Oh god, this is even better than I thought. I'm totally tweeting this later."

Derek sighs exasperatedly. "What are you talking about, Laura? Just tell me what the hell is going on."

"Hold on a second," Laura says, wickedly gleeful excitement in her voice as she scans the room. She stops when her eyes land on the pen and pad of paper next to the house phone. Laura walks over and picks them up, and then quickly jots something down. She tears off the sheet of paper and then sets the pen back down.

"Here," she says, crossing the room and then handing the scrap of paper to Derek. Derek stares down and it, feeling puzzled. There's just one thing written down: #failwolf

"How is this supposed to be helpful?"

Laura lets out a little huff of laughter. "Just do yourself a favor and go on Twitter to look up this tag when you get a chance."

"Fine," Derek grumbles as he shoves the piece of paper into his pocket, feeling more confused than ever.

A few minutes later, their parents and Andie come home, followed by Uncle Peter, Aunt Lucy and their kids. Derek does the best he can to help Laura and their mom finish up the spaghetti and meatballs, the delicious smell filling up the house. Scott and Stiles walk through the door with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. The five of them help set the table and then dinner is finally served. Before everyone sits down, Derek notices Laura pulling Stiles aside and whispering something to him. She has that same teasing expression on her face that she did when talking to Derek earlier. Whatever she says makes Stiles tense up for a brief moment and shoot a nervous glance in Derek's direction. Derek frowns and wonders what that was all about, but there's no time to dwell on it.

Dinner passes by in a blur and Derek feels unable to focus on what's going on around him. All he can think about is this #failwolf thing, to the point where he feels tempted to sneak upstairs and look it up on his younger brother's laptop, but he knows that his mother would never let that fly; no one escapes from pack dinner night. And besides Derek wants to be able to sit down in his own apartment and give this his undivided attention.

***

 

The first thing Derek does when he gets home that evening is fire up his laptop. He feels himself thrumming with anticipation as he goes to twitter.com. He signs up for an account and chooses @dhale89 as his handle. Sure, maybe it's a little boring but he doesn't really care. And besides, he only picked it because some random person has already taken @dhale. Finally signed up and logged in, he types #failwolf into the search bar and is shocked to see how many results there are. He starts with the first tweet at the top, one that was made a few hours ago by Laura:

 

 

Derek keeps scrolling down the page and reading all of the tweets. First he feels shock and then anger to see his mistakes catalogued online like this. The tweets never seem to be about anything huge - just his little day to day foibles - but that doesn't make the whole thing any easier to swallow. As his eyes scan the screen he sees a tweet from Erica about the tiara incident:

 

 

When Derek clicks to view the full conversation, he sees a response from Scott:

 

 

But as Derek keeps looking, he sees that most of the tweets appear to come from Stiles, including one about the ripped t-shirt incident:

 

Suddenly Stiles' noncommittal response when Derek had asked him about it makes a lot more sense. In fact, Stiles is most likely the instigator of this whole thing. He knows that whatever feelings he has toward Stiles are _his_ problem, but it still stings to see that Stiles thinks so lowly of him. But no matter what, Derek wants answers and he feels like Stiles owes him that much. Derek closes the lid of his laptop, grabs his keys, and heads out the door.

Derek has a good memory and he knows that the Sheriff is working a double shift tonight. That means that it's the perfect time to pay Stiles a little visit.

***

 

Derek pulls up on Stiles' block and parks his car across the street from the house. He can see Stiles' beat up jeep parked in the driveway.The house is quiet and all of the lights are off except for the one upstairs in Stiles' bedroom. It's close to midnight, but Derek can't say he's surprised to see that Stiles is still up; he always stays up so damned late. But in his defense, it _is_ Spring Break this week so it's not like it's a school night.

Derek gets out of his Camaro and clicks the little button on his key fob to lock it. He considers just going up and ringing the doorbell like a reasonable person, but then he thinks better of it. If Stiles wants to be a little prankster then Derek might as well have a little payback.

Derek quickly scales the tree by Stiles' window and then silently leaps onto the window ledge, thankful for his werewolf strength and agility. He peers through the window to see that Stiles is hunched over his laptop with headphones on, completely oblivious to everything. Derek opens the window and steps inside the room. He crosses the room and then rests his hands on Stiles shoulders and spins him around in the desk chair.

"Oh my _god!_ " Stiles shouts, so startled that he topples out of the chair entirely. "What the fuck, Derek!" Stiles says as pulls off his headphones. "Why are sneaking into my room like a creeper? I thought you were an officer of the law, dude."

"I have some questions for you," Derek says, completely unfazed as he crosses his arms and glares down at Stiles.

"Oh really?" Stiles says as he scrambles back into his chair, looking away a little shiftily.

"Yes."

"Wait, so is this some kind of interrogation? Because if it is then I'm entitled to a lawyer."

Derek rolls his eyes. It's better that he just get to the point, otherwise Stiles will just talk circles around him all night.

"Tell me about this 'failwolf' thing."

"What? I don't-"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek says, the expression on his face making it clear that Stiles is seriously trying his patience.

"Okay okay, I know. You got me, you figured it out."

"Laura tried to warn you earlier, at dinner."

"Um, nice detective work?"

Derek sighs exasperatedly. "I've spent the last hour going through that tag and seeing all the things that you and half the town have to say about me. So I think you owe me an explanation, Stiles."

"Look, it's not like I meant to embarrass you, Derek," Stiles says, which earns him a patented glare from Derek.

"Okay, maybe just a little," Stiles admits with a shrug. "But I... I just wanted to get you to notice me." He looks at Derek with an uncomfortable but hopeful expression on his face. Derek doesn't know what to say to this. He feels like he's still missing something, that he doesn't quite understand what Stiles wants from him.

Stiles makes a little frustrated noise. "Oh for the..." he starts to say, but then he's standing up and reaching for Derek, grabbing him by his lapels, and kissing him hard. Derek's whole body stills for a moment before he snaps into action, kissing Stiles back with equal fervor. Stiles' lips are soft and while the kiss is a little clumsy, to Derek it's perfect. He has Stiles' touch and taste and smell invading his senses. He has Stiles in his arms and it feels so right, like it's right where he belongs. But nothing could ever be that simple, not when it comes to Derek's love life.

Derek breaks the kiss and pulls away. They stare at each other, both panting for breath. Stiles' cheeks are flushed and the way his lips are parted _just so_ makes Derek want to kiss him again and never stop. But Derek doesn't make a move. Instead he says, "We shouldn't. You're too young."

"Really? You're really going to do the whole 'you're too young, Stiles' thing? I'm eighteen, Derek," Stiles says, "I have been for a few months now."

"And you're leaving for college in the Fall."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yeah, to Berkeley, which - newsflash - is not that far away. Also, there are these things called cars," Stiles says, making a steering wheel motion with his hands, "and people drive them so that they can go visit each other."

Derek makes an annoyed little growl and glares at Stiles because it's easier than facing the torrent of feelings Stiles has stirred up inside him.

Truth be told, Derek hasn't really been involved with anyone since Kate and he'll never forget how disastrously that could have ended. Humans and werewolves have lived in peace for decades now, but there are still factions on both sides who are against co-existence and only want to fight for dominance. Most of the Argents abhor Kate's extreme views; they don't hate werewolves and have no desire to return to the old days when they were a prominent hunter family. Derek was unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire of the power struggle within the family, nothing but a pawn to be manipulated in Kate's twisted game.

Even though no one blames Derek for what (almost) happened, he has never forgiven himself for being so selfish and stupid. She didn't succeed in killing the Hale pack, but she _did_ succeed in scarring Derek, in hurting him in ways that have never truly mended.

It isn't like Derek is deprived or that he doesn't have any love in his life. He has his family and a job that he loves. But he also has a vicious little voice inside him that whispers that he doesn't deserve anything more than that. Derek tells himself that it's better this way. Stiles should go off to college and meet someone his own age, someone less damaged than Derek.

"It's just... it's not a good idea, Stiles."

Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek and then lets out a frustrated sigh as he reaches into his pocket.

"Wait, why are you pulling out your phone?" Derek asks warily. Stiles ignores him in favor of starting to type something furiously.

"Are you... are you _tweeting_ this?" Derek says incredulously.

"Hey!" Stiles protests as Derek reaches out and snatches his phone away. Derek glares down at the screen to see what's written there.

"Too noble to man up and take what he wants, hashtag failwolf," Derek reads out loud. Derek stares down at the screen for a long moment and then looks up and meets Stiles' determined glare.

Stiles is a pushy little bastard who never knows when to stop or when to shut up. He's too clever for his own good and he frustrates Derek to no end. But he's also funny and loyal and makes Derek laugh like no one else can. Stiles knows just how to pull Derek out of himself and get him to take life a little less seriously. His eyes light up like amber when he laughs and when he moves, it's with that odd brand of graceless beauty that is uniquely Stiles.

And as evidenced by this little scheme, he's more than willing to look ridiculous and go to great lengths for the people he cares about. These are just a few of the reasons that Derek is completely, hopelessly in love with him. Derek could walk away right now, and maybe he even should. But instead he surges forward and kisses Stiles again because Derek understands now. He knows that if he lets Stiles go it would be the biggest failure of his life.

Derek lets himself get lost in the slide of Stiles' lips against his own. He cups Stiles' face in his hand, letting his thumb play over the line of Stiles' cheekbone. After long moments, Derek reluctantly breaks the kiss. He doesn't want to just stand here and kiss Stiles all night, not when there's a perfectly good bed just a few feet away. All Derek wants to do now is get rid of anything that's in the way of getting his bare skin against Stiles', of running his hands all over Stiles' body.

Without even looking, he tosses Stiles' phone into the basket of unfolded laundry in the corner of the room.

"Hey!" Stiles protests. "You could have broken it."

"No, I wouldn't have. Werewolf reflexes, remember?"

"Yeah, but still, you _really_ should-"

"Leave it, Stiles. Besides, you have more important things to focus on than Twitter right now," Derek says right before he pulls Stiles into his arms and kisses him again.

"Oh," Stiles says breathlessly as they pull away for air. Derek doesn't say anything. He's too busy pressing kisses to the sensitive skin of Stiles' neck.

"Oh, that's... yeah, that's really good." Derek nips at Stiles neck, and Stiles intakes a sharp breath. " _Fuck_ , Derek-"

"Stop talking." Derek murmurs before taking Stiles' earlobe between his teeth and tugging at it lightly.

Stiles lets out a shuddering breath. "I can... I can do that."

Derek buries his face into Stiles neck and laughs. "No, you can't," he says, "but I'd like to see you try." And with that, Derek picks Stiles up and unceremoniously tosses him down on the bed. Stiles looks up and him, wide-eyed and panting. His shirt has slipped up a little, and Derek can see a bit of the pale skin of Stiles' stomach. He aches to reach out and touch it, and then he realizes that he can. He doesn't have to pine for Stiles anymore, not when he's all sprawled out on the bed waiting for Derek to make a move.

Derek gets onto the bed and crawls up its length until he can straddle Stiles. Derek leans down and cups Stiles' face in his hands before kissing him again. They both cry out as Derek grinds his hips down, feeling each others' hardness through their jeans. Derek places his palms underneath Stiles's t-shirt, running his hands up and down the skin of Stiles' chest and stomach. Stiles' skin feels so good, and Derek loves the way his body trembles under Derek's touch.

Derek sits up and takes off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. Stiles swallows hard as he looks up at Derek for a long moment, and then he's a flurry of motion, kissing Derek and touching him everywhere he can reach.

"God, Derek," Stiles moans, still managing to run his mouth in between kisses. "You're so fucking hot, it should be illegal. You should arrest yourself, even though I don't think you're allowed to. I bet I could do it though, like a Citizen's Arrest or something."

Derek laughs quietly. "You're ridiculous. And you even don't have any handcuffs."

"Well-"

"You don't. But I do," Derek says and Stiles shudders at his words. Derek can tell that Stiles must be running all kinds of scenarios involving the two of them and handcuffs. And as fun as that would be, Derek kisses Stiles again to make him turn his attention back to the present moment.

Derek scoots back on the bed, giving Stiles enough room to sit up and take his own shirt off. When he does, Derek lets his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. Derek can see the bulge in Stiles' pants, can tell that Stiles must be painfully hard by now. Derek reaches out to start undoing Stiles' fly, but he stops when he hears Stiles' breath hitch with what sounds like nervousness.

"Wait. Have you done this before?" Derek asks. Not that they really talk about their sex lives, but Derek feels like Stiles wouldn't be able to keep it quiet if he'd lost his virginity.

"If I say yes, can we skip your whole freakout about deflowering me? Because you were about to take my pants off and I really, really want to get back to that part."

It hits Derek then that maybe Stiles started breathing harder out of excitement; maybe _Derek_ is the one who's nervous here. He wants Stiles so badly, but it's so hard for him to shake the fear that he'll hurt Stiles the way Kate hurt him.

Stiles looks up at Derek expectantly, but when Derek says nothing, Stiles flops back on the bed dramatically and lets out an annoyed sigh. "Come on, really Derek? You're the worst. You're like actually, literally the worst. Where's my phone?" Stiles says as he starts to sit up.

Derek reaches down and places a firm hand on Stiles' chest to keep him in place. "No, no more tweeting." No more waiting, no more hesitating and second guessing.

Without another word, Derek undoes Stiles' fly and then slides off his jeans and boxers until Stiles is completely naked before him. He looks so good; pale skin with lean, wiry muscle, his cock hard and flushed red, and the light dusting of hair on his belly. Stiles is gorgeous. Having him all laid out like this only makes Derek want him even more. But when their eyes meet, Stiles _does_ actually seem a bit nervous now.

"Stiles, you're-"

"Not carved like a fucking Greek statue like you are, I know."

Derek shakes his head. "No, I... you're perfect. You're  _you_."

Derek kisses him softly, and then gets off of the bed. He stands up long enough to quickly and efficiently strip off his clothes, and then lays down and presses his naked body against Stiles. They both moan at the feel of bare skin against bare skin, running their hands all over each other as they kiss. As Derek touches him, he feels so in tune with Stiles' body. He presses his nose into Stiles' skin, breathing in the heady scent of his arousal. He revels in every movement, every shift of muscle, every choked out moan, every beat of Stiles' racing heart vibrating in his ears. He realizes then that Stiles' heart always races a bit when he's near Derek. Derek just never understood why before. He never really let himself notice the pattern.

Derek moves until he's laying down beside Stiles. He's not done exploring Stiles' body yet and it's easier this way, when he can see all of him. He starts kissing and touching Stiles again, wanting to leave no place untouched. He wants to feel Stiles everywhere, like he's playing connect the dots with the scattered moles on Stiles' skin.

"Derek, _please_ ," Stiles gasps.

"Please what? Tell me what you want, Stiles."

"I don't... I don't know," Stiles moans, "Something, _anything_."

Derek shifts until the length of his body is pressed down on top of Stiles again. Derek grinds his hips down, loving the feel of their cocks sliding together. Stiles chokes out a moan when Derek reaches down, grips both of their cocks in his hand, and starts stroking. They're both leaking precome, the slickness making the slide even more delicious.

"Holy fucking shit," Stiles curses as he throws his head back and moans. They find a good rhythm and even though it feels incredible, Derek doesn't want them both to come, not yet. Stiles lets out a frustrated noise when Derek pulls away again and kneels beside Stiles on the bed.

"What the fuck, Derek?" Stiles says, panting up at him. "I can't believe you're being such a fucking tease. Come on dude, it's my first time."

Derek snorts. "So _now_ you want to pull the virgin card when it's convenient for you."

"Ugh, you're such a jerk," Stiles complains. "A sexy jerk, but still a jerk."

Derek lets out a little huff of laughter. "Then why call me failwolf? Why can't you call me sexywolf instead?"

Stiles laughs. "Nice try, but no way," he says, "First of all, it sounds really fucking stupid. Second of all, it'll just go to your head."

"Will this change your mind?" Derek says, and then he's pinning Stiles down with a hand on his chest and sucking at the head of his cock. Derek swirls his tongue around the head and then takes more of it into his mouth, steadily bobbing his head up and down.

"Oh god, oh fuck, Derek," Stiles moans as he grips Derek's hair roughly in his hand. "Oh _fuck yeah,_ keep doing that and I'll call you whatever you want."

Derek doesn't need to be told twice. He keeps Stiles pinned to the bed, forcing him to stay still while Derek sucks him down. He uses his free hand to tease Stiles' balls and to stroke the shaft of his cock where Derek's mouth doesn't quite reach. Derek's only done this a handful of times before, during a brief period where he tried having one night stands in a misguided effort to prove something to himself. But even though he doesn't have the experience to deep throat Stiles the way he wants to, Stiles doesn't seem to be complaining at all.

Stiles is a beautiful, babbling mess now, desperate to take everything Derek is offering. Derek moans around Stiles' cock, loving the way Stiles smells, the way he tastes in Derek's mouth. With his free hand, Derek dips his fingers between Stiles' legs and teases at his hole.

"Derek, I'm going to come," Stiles chokes out as his hips start to stutter uncontrollably. Derek doesn't stop, just keeps sucking until Stiles' body stiffens and then shakes as he comes down Derek's throat. Derek keeps his mouth there, swallowing it all as Stiles writhes through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When Stiles is spent and boneless beneath him, Derek lets Stiles' cock slide out of his mouth. Now that Stiles has come, Derek shifts his focus to chasing his own pleasure. Stiles looks completely fucked out and sated, and Derek wants nothing more than to paint Stiles' skin with his come. He straddles Stiles and grips at his own cock desperately, jerking himself off while Stiles watches him. Derek can feel his orgasm approaching as he closes his eyes and lets out a broken moan.

"Wait, don't," Stiles says, as he reaches out to grab Derek's wrist. Derek stops stroking and stares down at Stiles. "Let me."

Derek releases his grip and lets Stiles take his cock in hand. The angle makes it a little awkward at first, but they quickly find a rhythm, Stiles stroking firmly and Derek working his hips to fuck into Stiles' fist.

Stiles starts twisting his hand on every upstroke, making Derek arch and moan, his hips moving uncontrollably as he pushes his cock into Stiles' grip. Derek is so close now, his whole world distilled down to Stiles' hand on him, stroking him just right.

"Stiles," Derek moans and then he's leaning down and kissing Stiles as he comes all over his chest and stomach.

***

 

A couple hours and another round later, Stiles lays on his back and lets out a happy sigh. "God, you're really good at sex. Like really really good at sex."

"I'm not a failwolf all the time."

"I know, Derek," Stiles says as he lazily runs his fingers through Derek's hair.

"So will you stop with this whole failwolf thing then?"

Stiles lets out a snort of laughter as he rolls over onto his side. "I mean, I can totally stop with the tweets if you want, but I kinda like it."

"You like making fun of me," Derek says flatly as he rolls over to face Stiles.

"No! Well, yes. But you don't get it."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Great, I've failed again. Are you going to tweet this too?"

"No, I..." Stiles starts and then bites at his lips, considering what to say. "Look, about the failwolf thing. It's not what you think. It just means... it means you're not perfect, and sometimes you fuck up, but you always try. Even when it's hard, even when everything sucks you always try again and you don't let anything stop you."

Derek furrows his brow as he mulls it over. "So in failing, I succeed?"

Stiles laughs. "Well yeah, pretty much."

"Oh," Derek says. Though he feels oddly touched by Stiles' words, he still reaches out and lightly punches Stiles on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Stiles says, even though Derek knows that it didn't actually hurt. Plus he totally deserves it; Stiles' whole Twitter campaign has basically been the digital equivalent of pulling Derek's pigtails.

"That's for being a little asshole."

Stiles shrugs and smiles over at Derek. "Yup, that's me."

"Because you couldn't just come talk to me about this. No, of course not," Derek says sarcastically. "You had to go and get half the town involved."

"Oh come on, Derek," Stiles complains, "you know you're basically like, allergic to talking. You're lucky I've learned how to read your eyebrow movements, otherwise we'd never be able to communicate."

Derek smacks Stiles' shoulder again but then he leans forward and presses a kiss to the skin there. "You're an idiot."

"And you're completely oblivious. I can't believe it took you this long to realize I was into you," Stiles says, but by now they're both smiling at each other. Stiles scoots forward and kisses Derek on the lips slowly, letting them both savor it.

"So what do you say?" Stiles says after he pulls away. "Am I forgiven?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "I guess so. Failwolf," he says as he shakes his head and chuckles. "Only you could turn an insult into a term of endearment."

Stiles grins. "What can I say, I'm a man of many talents."

***

 

Derek wakes up in the morning to an empty bed and the smell of frying bacon wafting from downstairs. He yawns and stretches lazily and the sheets feel good sliding against his bare skin. The bedding smells like sex and Stiles and it's absolutely perfect.

Derek's stomach growls and he sits up and starts climbing out of bed. It's then that he notices Stiles' phone on the bedside table, at some point having migrated from where Derek threw it into the laundry basket.

Derek stares at it and hesitates for a few moments until curiosity finally gets the better of him and he picks the phone up. He opens up the Twitter app and navigates until he finds Stiles' last tweet, which is from earlier that morning:

 


End file.
